Hillsboro Jail

My Train of Thought

There are many endings to that one

• Got derailed?
• Became destiny?
• Switched tracks?
• Got onto a siding?
• Arrived?

How can one explain insanity from sanity?

Would not that be a marriage of opposites?

There’s much labor in running a train from here.

What’s legal might not be most convenient

But long-term pays off from my station.

There must be allowances for age

Which arrives with us at a pivotal place

That where it all started

  Once more figuring out how the body works

         Once more bringing senses “online,”

         Once more facing out to start all over again.

2/7/2024       Carol Borsello

WHY LOOK NOW?

Upon someone paying attention long after hanging us out to dry

except she doesn’t remember that part.

You positioned yourself so far away.

Was it blind trust?

We asked for help.

It was not forthcoming

Tho your later [false] memory said it was there – it

          Must be us, we careless fools.

It’s like playing Keep Away with the Truth.

A CHANGE I NOTICED

I am not silent,

Tho I learn its value every day.

It grows on me more largely

That my thinking has little to do with that of others.

I have less of a drive to ally with them now anyway.

I wouldn’t agree with myself if it weren’t for ego.

I feel like a unicorn, trotted out, patted on the horn

Set to my own observations, my own secrets,

Then set aside to think them.

I only asked to serve

Right?

I didn’t figure on the intrigue & infringement

And downright interference

My radiant soul would run into…

The reversals & revisions & uncomfortable revelations:

Who I am against the backdrop of someone with

Sucn a set of different Operating Instructions?

QUESTION MARKS

People seem surprised when I say I want my own way.

I don’t understand that. This pragmatic worldview

Should be everyone’s, IMHO, jus’ sayin’.

I expand myself by asking. I want to move in & out of thinking

In the Mosaic Present rather than past or future,

I outpace these, but it’s just I’m on another path

More timelessness appeals to me now.

I don’t recognize what passes for social justice

I am unplugged. I feel acoustic to God

The God of my being, no one else’s

I am busy here, being that One Drop Poised

Above An Infinite Ocean.

MY BIONIC EYE

Is what I call it.

I open a book to the page where there is an error.

In some arcane fashion I’ve yet to understand

My eye finds “mistake.”

Something rudimentary: any copy editor

Would have been fired for publishing this

Once upon That Time.

GIFT SIMPLE

It’s a gift, but less so when coupled with

Spontaneity & a quirky POV,

Not always palatable to outsiders.

This is how I live my life

My purview & my vision:

To be me.

I cannot be any Other.

I won’t deny trying that –

There were lots of personalities I wore before this one.

All distilled to this me.